


Fire (Pilot Redux)

by theneonpineapple



Series: #JessLivesAU [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death Fix, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, I'm In Your Canon Defrosting Your Ladies, Jess Lives, John Winchester's A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 16:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13978881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theneonpineapple/pseuds/theneonpineapple
Summary: After the death of their mother at the hands of a monster, Sam and Dean Winchester were trained to fight by their father, who aimed to hunt down the thing that killed his wife. They have a few rules: driver picks the music, don't mess with Baby, and don't talk about Fight Club.Sam breaks the rules.OR: Jessica Moore's boyfriend has a dark family secret. Luckily, they have a functioning adult relationship based on mutual respect and affection, so Sam tells her the truth about his past.





	Fire (Pilot Redux)

**Author's Note:**

> I've been kicking around this damn AU since 2013 and you know what? Here it is, lads: the first episode rewritten. #JessLivesAU is live.
> 
> Edited 8/4/18 to fix a typo and remove some stuff I hadn't planned to reveal so early in the game.

_"Are we all victims of opportunity_  
_Locked outside the door back in '83"  
_ \- Blink 182, "Go"

* * *

 

**_Kill Devil Hills, NC_ **

**_22 Years ago_ **

"Congratulations, Theresa," a man said.

Theresa smiled at him automatically. "Thank you," she said, but couldn't quite place him.

"I haven't seen you since the dinner they held at the firm, must've been last spring," he said.

And _oh_ , she thought, no wonder she didn't recognize him; there had to have been dozens of men in nearly identical suits at the dinner, not unlike the one he was wearing now. "Well, thank you so much for coming, I know your schedule must be busy."

"Well, when I heard you and Lee were having another baby, I had to come. How is James taking the transition from only child to big brother?"

"Oh, he's taking it well. Where is he? Jem!"

There was a rapid patter of feet, and then Jem came skidding to a halt between them. "Hi, Mom!" He reached up and patted her belly. "Hi, baby!"

"Jem, would you go get..." She couldn't place his name. "Daddy's coworker here a drink?"

"Sure!" said Jem, with unblemished cheerfulness even in the face of a menial task. "Do you want fruit punch, or milk, or ginger ale, or grownup drinks, or—"

"Water will be fine," he said.

He went bounding off again, and Theresa looked back up at the man. "You know, you could – stay a while, take off your coat… It's a party, even if it is just a baby shower."

She may not fully recognize the guy, but that was no reason to forget her manners.

"I'm afraid I can't stay long," said the man. "I just wanted to drop off a gift and offer you both my congratulations. Where is Lee?"

"Oh, I think he and some of the other husbands went off on their own. Men," she laughed.

James came running back over the them, with a paper cup full of water for him. He took it delicately, and held it more like a tumbler of something expensive than a cup covered in yellow ducklings and grey stars.

"Thank you," he said shortly to James. Then, "How old are you?"

"Soon I'll be this many," was James's answer, holding up four fingers.

"Four," he said. "Four's a good gap," he told Theresa. "Old enough that you're not dealing with two screaming infants, but not so old that they won't have anything in common."

"Yeah," she said, and put a hand on her stomach. She smiled a little. "Thank you," she told him warmly.

The man produced a gift from the pocket of his long coat. "Congratulations again, Theresa. I have a feeling your daughter will do great things."

"Oh, we—we don't know the sex," she said, bewildered, as she accepted the gift.

"Call it sixth sense," he said.

* * *

 

_**Palo Alto, CA** _

_**22 Years Later** _

"Sam!" Jess called. "We were supposed to be there like 15 minutes ago." She waited a beat, fully aware Sam could hear her in their apartment with its paper thin walls and echoing pipes. Then she put her hands on her hips and said in a conversational tone, "Sam, you coming or what?"

He poked his head around the doorframe. Busted. "Do I have to?"

"Yes," she said, "it'll be fun. And where's your costume?" She gestured to his t-shirt and jeans.

"You know how I feel about Halloween," he said, and she stepped closer to him anyway, reaching out to rest her hands on his shoulders.

"I still think you should've been Van Helsing," she said.

Sam groaned in exasperation, but pulled her in and smiled into a kiss. A quick kiss which quickly turned to more, as Sam's hand travelled over her retro nurse costume. She broke away. "Sam, we're going to be late to meet Chris."

"So?" He was moving down her jaw.

Jess struggled to remember what the very excellent reasons for going to the party were, with Sam's mouth over the pulse in her right common carotid. "Um. It… would be rude? And Chris is our friend?"

"But Chris is going to be something stupid for Halloween."

She pulled back a bit. "What do you mean?"

"He loves horror movies, Jess, he's going to be something ridiculous and bloody and I'm going to spend the entire night thinking about all the lore I know about the real life version."

"You don't know that!"

* * *

Chris set down a trio of beer bottles, and Jess scooped one up. It was smudged a little with the dark grey-ish makeup meant to make him look like a corpse for his truly terrible zombie costume.

Her lips were twitching; Sam rolled his eyes. _I told you so_ , his bitch face said. _Shut up_ , the quirk of her eyebrows said.

She raised the bottle. "So here's to Sam and his awesome LSAT victory."

"All right, all right," Sam ducked his head, "it's not that big a deal."

"Yeah, he acts all humble, but he scored a 174," Jess told Chris.

"What, not a perfect 180?" Chris said.

Sam pulled a bitch-face at him over the rim of his own beer. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Well, it's official," said Chris. He slapped Sam on his shoulder. Sam wrote off his shirt as a loss. Theatre makeup was impossible to get out. "You are a first-round draft pick. You can go to any law school you want."

Jess smiled to herself, bumping her shoulder against Sam's.

"Actually, I got an interview here Monday," Sam said, looking at her. "If it goes okay, I think I got a shot at a full ride next year."

"It's gonna go _great_ ," Jess said.

"How does it feel to be the golden boy in your family?"

Sam could feel his smile waver. "They don't know."

"No? I would be gloating, man, why not?"

"'Cause we're not exactly the Bradys."

"Yeah, well, I'm not exactly the Huxtables. How about some shots?"

"No," Sam and Jess said in unison.

"No?"

" _No,_ " said Jess, and she was laughing.

* * *

 _Sam_ , Dean realized the minute his brother took a swing – he'd been the one to teach the kid to fight, after all – but instead of saying anything, he decided to see how well Sam held him off.

It wasn't as easy as he was expected after two years at some fancy university, but they couldn't spar forever.

Dean knocked him to the ground and pinned him there. "Whoa, easy, tiger," he said.

It took Sam a second. "Dean?" He said, his tone incredulous. Then, "You scared the crap out of me!"

"That's cause you're out of practice."

Sam's eyes narrowed, and then Dean was flat on his back.

"Or not," Dean said. He shrugged his brother's hands off, or tried to. Kid was strong. "C'mon, get off of me."

"Dean, what the hell are you doing here?" Sam asked, but he'd let Dean up, and offered him a hand to his feet. He was tempted to ignore it, but hey, he'd throw the kid a bone. He took the hand.

"I was looking for a beer," Dean said.

Sam smacked his forearm into Dean's chest. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Ok, all right, we got to talk," Dean said.

"Ever heard of a phone?"

The lighting was all wrong, but Dean could picture the kid's bitch-face. "Would you have picked up?"

Sam hesitated, and then the lights came on, and there was a hot chick in a t-shirt and boxers and not much else standing there. "Sam?"

Dean was treated to Sam's guiltiest, hand-in-Dean's-shoebox-of-candy face. "Jess, hey." Then he shook his head. "Uh, Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica."

 _You didn't google him first_ , Dean thought, _you didn't even check for how many shoes were by the door_. He was being sloppy. Then, _why didn't dad say he had a girlfriend?_

"Wait. Your brother Dean?"

Must be serious, if Sam had gone so far as to mention Dean. He was surprised she knew anything, but Sam always was a crap liar, so maybe she'd just caught him out somehow.

He nodded to her – Jessica – and gave her his most winning smile, usually reserved for waitresses. "I love the Smurfs," he gestured to her shirt, but she just stared at him like she was seeing a ghost. Except minus all the annoying screaming and running civilians did. "You know, I got to tell you. You are completely out of my brother's league."

He heard Sam sigh quietly.

"Just let me put something on," Jess said, looking at Sam.

"No, no," Dean said. "No, I wouldn't dream of it, seriously."

She still looked unimpressed. _How did Sam charm this chick?_ He plastered his best soothing-the-witnesses smile on instead and slapped Sam on the shoulder. "Anyway, I got to borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business, but nice meeting you."

"No," said Sam. "No, whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her."

" _Okay_ ," Dean glared at him and took a breath. "Dad hasn't been home in a few days."

"So?" Sam said. "Not like he never goes off the radar," he added.

"Dad's on a _hunting trip_ , and he hasn't been home in a while."

Sam's face didn't change. But his girlfriend's did.

"Hunting, like… monsters?" Jess asked.

* * *

Rarely in Sam's life had he seen Dean truly shocked – raised as a hunter you kind of learn to roll with things, and he almost never was so surprised he couldn't mask it quickly and play it cool – but he seemed unable to even process that for a moment.

Finally, he shook his head a little, stopped staring at Jess, and looked to Sam for answers.

"I told her," said Sam, with a small shrug. When Dean's gaze turns more pissed than incredulous, he added, "I want to spend my life with her, Dean, obviously I had to say something about—"

"And she believed you?"

Jess answered this, too. "He showed me a ghost – a death echo – up at Memorial."

Sam squeezed her shoulder and grinned a little, albeit flatly. "She threw a shoe at it," he said.

Jess elbowed him.

"What the hell were you thinking, Sammy?" Dean demanded. "She could've gotten you thrown into a freaking psych ward! It's rule one, man, rule one – we do what we do, and we shut the hell up about it."

"It's almost impossible to get someone committed involuntarily to a psych ward, Dean."

"Even then – what were you thinking, dragging a civilian into—"

"Hey!" Jess said.

Dean looked back at her, putting his pleasant talking-to-witnesses expression into use. "Yeah, sorry, just a little family discussion."

"I can see that," she said drily, and Dean's smile got a little more real. "Sam, honey, let's sit down, you can put a pot of coffee on while I show Dean where civilized people hold conversations."

"Way, way out of your league," Dean told Sam, who pulled a face before going to put coffee on.

He could hear Jess – their apartment wasn't as small as their first one was, but the walls were still paper thin – as she spoke to Dean.

"I know you're worried about Sam's safety. But I'm not going to have him committed – which _is_ nearly impossible, especially with my word against his – and since I haven't plastered it across the internet or walked away yet, I think you should give me the benefit of the doubt. Not to mention Sam."

"What about him?"

"He's an adult, and a brilliant one at that. Did you know he got a 174 on his LSAT? He can make his own decisions."

"The LSAT, huh?"

He didn't hear a response from Jess – she must've nodded – but then Dean made a _hmm_ sound. "Out of 200?"

"Out of 180," she corrected.

"He always was too smart for his own good," sighed Dean.

And Sam felt a wave of affection for his brother, and a lump rose in his throat as he finally let himself think _I've missed him so_ much –

* * *

"What was he hunting?" Sam asked. It was strange to see him cut out small talk like this; he usually only did that when he was all worked up, but his expression was calm.

Dean spared Jessica a glance, like he was still adjusting to her presence.

Jess curled her hands tighter around her mug of coffee and tried to pretend she wasn't in way over her head. The ceramic was hot enough to be uncomfortable, but the feeling kept her out of her own head, so she'd call it a win.

"All right, let's see…" He started patting down his pockets. "Where the hell did I put that thing?"

"So when dad left, why didn't you go with him?" Sam asked.

"I was working my own gig – this voodoo thing down in New Orleans."

"Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?"

"I'm 26, dude," said Dean, as if being 26 qualified you to hunt something voodoo related in New Orleans. Maybe it did. Jess didn't know. He produced a notebook. "All right, here we go. So dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, guy goes missing. They found his car, but he'd vanished. Completely M.I.A."

Sam huffed. "So maybe he was kidnapped."

"Did they also kidnap the one in April, another one in December '04, '03, '98, '92? All men, all same 5-mile stretch of road. Started happening more and more, so dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago," he looked at Sam pointedly. "And I hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough, and then I get this voice mail yesterday."

Jess and Sam both leaned forward a little when Dean flipped open his phone and opened the voicemail. The first thing she heard was static. Then a man's voice: " _Dean, something is starting to happen. I think it's serious. I need to try to figure out what's going on. Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger._ "

That sounded ominous, and annoyingly non-specific.

But apparently Sam had heard something else, because he was pulling his thinking face. "You know there's EVP on that," he said.

The surrealism of all this was really starting to get to her. She'd seen Ghostbusters a few dozen times, and Chris was obsessed with his stupid horror movies. She knew what EVP was. She also knew she hadn't believed in it up until Sam had rearranged her world with his family secret, and now she was watching Sam's brother explain what he'd done to make the EVP intelligible.

" _I can never go home_ ," said another voice.

Dean smirked. Sam just looked thoughtful. "Never go home."

"You know, in almost two years, I've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing," Dean said.

Jess reached out and put a hand on Dean's shoulder briefly. He glanced at it with wide eyes. _You're overdoing it_ , she tried to convey with her expression. Sam had decided to go along as soon as he'd heard the voicemail, and maybe sooner.

"All right, I'll go," Sam sighed.

" _We'll_ go," said Jess.

Both of them stared at her.

Then Dean turned to scowl at Sam. "You can't bring some completely unsuspecting lady on a hunt, Sammy. She'll get herself killed."

"So far it's only killed men," Sam pointed out. His shoulders were set, and his face was pinched and stubborn. "She can come, Dean, she's not some damsel in distress. She can defend herself."

"By doing what, throwing a shoe at it?"

Jess gritted her teeth. She didn't feel at all bad for elbowing Sam in the ribs for telling his brother that part of the story, not anymore. "If it's too much for me to handle, I'll stay back, but there's no way I'm letting Sam go alone."

"We're a package deal, Dean," said Sam. He looked smug as Dean sat back with a sigh of defeat.

"But we have to get back first thing Monday," Jess added. "Sam's got a law school interview."

"Law school?" Dean looked at Sam.

"Yeah. Law school. Look, we got a deal or not?"

* * *

"You don't have to come," he told Jess.

She spared him a disbelieving look, still rooting through her sock drawer for a pair of wool ones from their hiking trip, and he raised his hands defensively.

"I can't believe I'm doing this – and then to let you come along? Not _let_ you, sorry," he added quickly. Smart man.

Jess threw her stuff into her gym bag while he gathered his thoughts. He sat down on the bed beside her bag after a moment.

"When I left, I swore I was done hunting. And now my girlfriend is coming along to look for whatever this thing is. All because Dad's missing, and Dean made it a personal favor… The whole thing is just surreal."

"You never really talk about him," Jess said. She stood between his knees and let her wrists rest on his shoulders. They were almost eye-to-eye like this; she tilted their foreheads together and looked down through her lashes at his closed eyes. "It was bad, huh?"

"I remember once, I told dad I was scared of the thing in my closet. Know what he did?"

"I'm guessing he didn't check the closet and tell you there was nothing there, maybe get you a glass of warm milk," Jess said.

Sam huffed a laugh. "No. He gave me a .45 – I was 9 years old."

There was a knock on the door, and she startled so bad she almost knocked her head against his. "You two done with your quickie?" Dean called.

Jess stepped back. "Your brother is taking a minute to adjust to your sudden appearance," she replied, in a voice pitched to carry. She heard boots scuffing the floors and smiled. Sam did the same thing sometimes.

She picked up her bag and went over to open the bedroom door. "I'm packed," she told Dean. "Why don't we go put my bag in your car?"

* * *

 

Dean eyed this Jessica character appraisingly. She was definitely pretty – and definitely out of his little brother's league – but also apparently a friggin' genius. Smart and hot. Privately, Dean thought she was perfect for Sammy. He certainly deserved the apple pie life, and the beautiful girlfriends that involved.

"It wasn't so bad," Dean said. "I mean, Sammy hated it, I'm not saying he didn't, but… everything Dad did, he did to protect us. There's a lot of dangerous stuff out there, Jess. More than a death echo."

She tossed her bag in the backseat and then turned back to Dean. "I know. He tries not to talk about it, but what he's said, I'll admit it's frightening. But that's why he got out, right? He wanted to live a life that was – "

"Normal," he said coolly. _With the hot blonde girlfriend and the apartment and the 174 on the LSAT_. As if their family could ever live like this, really.

"Safe," she corrected.

Dean scoffed. "No-where's safe, Jessica. That's rule one."

"Dean, I'm sure your brother hasn't mentioned me to you since you haven't called him or spoken to him in, oh, four years, but I'm an emergency room nurse. Nothing is _safe_. Sam could die getting hit by lightning, your father could drop dead of a heart attack, you and your classic car might get hit by a drunk driver. Life is full of danger."

"That's different," he said.

"But the existence of that danger doesn't mean it's pointless to try and shield yourself from some of that danger. Like not actively seeking out monsters that want you dead. I know why you do it, Dean. I understand the impulse. It's not like I became a nurse for the pay," she added.

That, at least, got a bit of a grin.

"Saving people, right? Maybe a little revenge too. But you can't begrudge Sam for wanting something else."

He eyed her curiously, and she resisted the urge to straighten her spine under his gaze. _You have nothing to prove_ , she told herself.

"Why are you coming, Jessica? This isn't your fight. This isn't your life. You said it yourself, safe and normal, that's your thing."

"Whatever you guys find, I want to be there for Sam," she said. Her lips curled, crooked and a little wry, into a smile. "And I'll acknowledge some scientific curiosity about real life monsters."

"Scientific curiosity," he muttered derisively.

* * *

"How is he paying to fill this thing with gas?" Jess asked.

Sam snorted. "Same way Dad paid for everything. Credit card scam. What name is it on the card applications this time?" He asked.

"Hey, don't get all disapproving on me. Hunting ain't exactly a pro-ball career." He grinned the same grin he'd always had when he'd pranked Sam as a kid. "Besides, all we do is apply. It's not our fault they send us the cards. Or rather, they send the cards to Bert Aframian and his son, uh, Hector. Scored two cards out of the deal."

"Sounds about right," Sam sighed, and turned back to Jess.

She looked apprehensive for a moment. Then she broke off in a laugh, shaking her head. "Well," she said, "That's some pretty direct wealth redistribution. Guess I can't complain too much."

Sam opened the center console, intending to show her the stacks of fake ID's and credit cards, but instead found the same half-dozen cassettes Dean had always had. "Twenty years of mullet rock," he told her, and she laughed.

Dean slid back into the car. "If you're going to do gross couple shit like giggling the whole way, you can walk," he said.

"We were just discussing how we ought to help you update your cassette-tape collection," said Jess. She flashed Dean a mischievous grin.

His eyles narrowed. "Why?"

"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes," said Jess.

"And secondly, you're still listening to the greatest hits of mullet rock."

"House rules, Sammy driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole."

"Cakehole," Jess repeated, shaking with mirth, as Sam protested, "My name's not Sammy, Dean. It's _Sam_. Sammy is a chubby 12-year-old."

Dean cranked the radio. "Sorry, I can't hear you, the music's too loud."

Jess leaned forward to speak in Sam's ear. "Aw, babe, you were a chubby 12 year old?"

"Shut up," Sam said.

Unfortunately, Dean apparently overheard. "I've got pictures," he told her.

"Is he adorable?" Jess asked.

"Oh, yeah," said Dean. "Round cheeks, bad haircut, the whole shebang."

" _Sweet_."

Sam was starting to regret this.

* * *

Jess tried not to fidget too much as they approached the gaggle of cops on the bridge; unlike _her boyfriend and his crazy family_ , she'd never impersonated a law enforcement officer before.

She could hear the cops talking as they approached:

"Did you guys find anything?

"No, nothing! No sign of struggle, no footprints, no fingerprints. Spotless. It's almost too clean," said one cop, and she felt an unexpected twinge of pity. It must be hard chasing down a killer, always wondering who'd done it, without understanding that the attacker was a ghost. They didn't stand a chance without the knowledge that ghosts existed.

"So this kid, Troy – he's dating your daughter, isn't he?"

"Yeah."

"How's Amy doing?"

"She's been putting up missing posters downtown."

Dean stepped forward and interrupted. "You had another one like this last month, didn't you?"

"And who are you?"

"Federal marshals," he said, and he and Sam both lifted their badges in perfect unison, while Jess tried not to stick out too much behind them.

The deputy eyed them. "You three are a little young for marshals, aren't you?"

"Thanks, that's awfully kind of you," Dean replied, with just the hint of a sneer.

"I think it's the plainclothes making us look younger," said Sam smoothly. "I apologize about our appearance, officers. The fugitive we think might be responsible for these murders made some of our associates the last time we got close. You did have another one just like this, correct?"

"Yeah, that's right, about a mile up the road. There have been others before that. You said a fugitive?"

Jess smiled. "The details are sensitive information," she said.

"So this victim, you knew him?" Sam asked.

"A town like this, everybody knows everybody."

Dean leaned forward. "Any connection between the victims besides that they're all men?"

"No, not so far as we can tell. The other guy wasn't even from this town."

"So what's the theory?" He asked.

"Honestly, we don't know. Serial murderer, kidnapping ring."

"Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys," said Dean.

Sam stomped on his foot. "Thank you for your time," he added. "Gentlemen."

Jess hesitated while Sam strong-armed Dean away. "I'm sorry about our partner, officers. He's kind of a dick when he doesn't get his beauty rest."

The cops seemed assuaged by this, and she smiled and nodded before hurrying after them. "What the hell was that?" She hissed.

"He gets like this around cops," said Sam.

Authority issues, Jess thought, but didn't say. Instead, she said, "They could get us busted for impersonating US Marshals."

"They don't really know what's going on," Dean snapped. "We're all alone on this, because they can't see what's right in front of their eyes. And now we have to get to the bottom of this and find Dad ourselves."

Jess opened her mouth to ask how he planned to do that, when she spotted two men in suits walking towards them. _Oh, I really hope those aren't real marshals_ , she thought.

"Can I help you three?" The cop escorting the men asked them.

"No, sir," Sam said in his best I'm An Honors Student voice, which had fooled many a professor and their landlord in its time. "We were just leaving."

"Agent Mulder, Agent Scully," said Dean, nodding to them each in turn.

 _Big time_ authority issues.

* * *

It's weird, seeing how easily Sam lied to the missing guy's grieving girlfriend, when normally he was a terrible liar. But she didn't have time to start cataloguing his tells, because they were supposed to be pumping this girl and her friend for information.

Weirdly, they're both right on board with the ghost theory… And willing to assume Troy is dead.

The boys got up, but Jess stayed in the booth. "I'll be right there," she said. She met Sam's eye and nodded reassuringly. _I've got this_.

"Call me, we'll come get you," said Sam, leaning down to kiss the side of her head briefly.

Jess patted his shoulder before he pulled away. Then she immediately felt bad for the display of casual affection, when Amy blinks a little too rapidly and glances down.

"I'm so sorry," Jessica said, "this must be so hard for you… And your father. He's a cop, right, Amy?"

"Yeah," said Amy.

"I'm sure he's doing the best he can. And I'm not sure about ghosts," she lied, and hoped the nervousness in her voice suggested fear and not bad lying, "but… I lost someone once. He went missing, overseas actually, and when I heard they'd found a body—"

No, she decided, it was way too soon for all this. She shook her head to clear away thoughts of James. "The point is, whoever or whatever took Troy, if the cops can't stop them, Sam and Dean will. Okay? I promise."

"Thank you," Amy said.

"And you'll have to forgive me if I'm overstepping here…" said Jessica, looking between Amy and Rachel. "But neither of you seem terribly broken up about Troy being missing. Not that you don't care, of course, I mean, I can clearly see how much you care, you've been all over town putting up posters. But you're not in pieces, which tells me either the two of you know more than you're letting on about where my boyfriend's nephew is – or maybe you weren't all that close?"

Amy ducked her head.

Rachel nudged her. "Go on, tell her."

"The truth is," said Amy, "I was thinking about breaking up with Troy before all this."

"Hey, there's no shame in that," Jess told her. "No one should stay in a relationship if they're not happy with it. If I'd stayed in some of my crappier relationships, I might never have met Sam," she invented wildly, because Sam was the first – and only – guy she'd really cared about outside her brother and her granddad.

Amy nodded. "Yeah, I loved Troy. But he was kind of a sucky boyfriend."

Jess waved the waitress over and ordered the first dessert she saw.

"So," she said. "Dish."

* * *

"We found our ghost, took a swan dive off the bridge where the found the car back in '81."

"Suicide? Not murder?" Jess asked.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, her kids died in the bathtub, and she just jumped off."

Sam twisted in his seat. "What'd you talk to them about?"

"Amy was planning to break up with Troy because Kat's friend goes to the same school he does and she told Rachel that Troy was getting awful close with a girl at a party, and then at Rachel's annual Halloween party, he left early, and Amy's brother's girlfriend's best friend thinks she saw him with another girl."

"Wow," Dean said. "They told you all this?"

"Uh-huh. She also said she doesn't think he was cheating, but she does think he's been trying to. You know, hitting on other women. Did you say bathtub? How old were they?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "The article doesn't say. What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking she killed them."

"That's dark," said Dean, "what the hell made you make that leap?"

"Kids don't just drown in bath tubs," she said. "The human body wants to live. They'd have to be unconscious, or in too deep to stand—yes, you _can_ drown in just a few inches of water, but you have to be impaired somehow. Drunk, drugged, concussed… or held down. No way two small children should be drunk, or drugged, and for both of them to get concussions – all four options point to neglect or full-out foul play. It's basic biology."

Dean shook his head. "I'll be damned. It's _La Llarona_."

"It's who?"

"He means a Weeping Woman, or Woman in White," said Sam. "It's a ghost story. Well, it's more of a phenomenon, really. They're spirits. They've been sighted for hundreds of years, dozens of places in Hawaii and Mexico, lately in Arizona, Indiana. All these are different women, you understand, but all share the same story. When they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them, and these women, basically suffering from temporary insanity, murdered their children. Then, once they realized what they had done, they took their own lives. So now their spirits are cursed, walking back roads, waterways, and if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him, and that man is never seen again."

"So all those guys… they were unfaithful?" Jessica said.

"Must've been."

* * *

It doesn't occur to Dean how cold the bridge was at night until he saw Jess shivering.

"You want my jacket?" Sam asked her.

"No, I'm fine," she said, waving him off. "But it's getting late, and you're out of leads. You're sure your dad was here?" This, she addressed to Dean.

"Well, he's chasing the same story, and we're chasing him."

"Okay," she said. "Where do you guys stay, on these… hunts?"

"Cases," said Dean. "And we stay in motels, you know, anything we can find for cheap."

She nodded. "Well, then, we can knock out two birds with one stone, right? We find a motel for us, and we find out if your dad checked in anywhere around here."

Dean looked – not impressed, but definitely surprised. "That's pretty good thinking."

"I'm a genius," she said, with the air of a joke, but Dean wouldn't be surprised if she was, like, some weirdo high-IQ freak. That would be typical Sammy.

"Okay, so, say the motels won't tell us if he's there, or he's not around, then what?" She asked.

"Then we keep digging till we find him. It might take a while."

"Remember we have to get back by Monday," Sam said, and Dean felt his heart sink.

"Right. The interview. Yeah, I forgot."

Or maybe he hadn't forgotten, and had just hoped that being back on the job would make Sam realize that he was supposed to be here, with Dean, the family business—

"You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just gonna become some lawyer, marry your girl?"

"His girl is right here," Jess said.

"You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but sooner or later you're gonna have to face up to who you really are. And so is she!"

Jess folded her arms, but Dean wasn't really paying attention to her.

"And who is that?" Sam demanded.

Dean shrugged, turned away, started back towards the car. Over his shoulder he tossed, "One of us."

Sam came running after him to keep arguing the point. "No! I'm not like you. This is _not_ going to be my life," he added, and stepped in front of Dean to cut him off.

"Well, you have a responsibility," Dean told him.

"To dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what mom looks like. And even if we do find the thing that killed her, mom's gone, and she isn't coming back."

Dean got ahold of Sam's shirt, shoved him into the support structure on the bridge, and got in his face, growling, "Don't talk about her like that." But it was hard to hold onto that flare of anger when Sam didn't fight him back, just looked… sad. Like he felt sorry for Dean.

"HEY!" Jess yelled. She hadn't moved from her spot, and the wind was whipping her hair around her face. When they looked at her, she threw her hands up. "Missing college kid, missing father, possible homicidal ghost?”

But before Dean could figure out a response that wasn't a defensive, _shut up_ , there was a distinct feeling like ice water being poured down his spine.

"Behind you!" Called Jess.

They both turned, and Constance Welch was standing there in a white nightgown, on the edge of the bridge.

Which of course involved a friggin' ghost taking control of Baby, and jumping over the edge, and getting covered in mud while Jess stood on the bridge, untouched, and Sam managed to hold onto the side. So he was the only idiot covered in mud.

* * *

“Hey, I was wondering, did a guy check in here? Would’ve been about, uh, 45, dark brown hair, possibly clean shaven but probably rocking at least a five o’clock shadow?”

“Who’s asking?” The clerk said, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Oh! Uh, I’m his - daughter-in-law.”

“He’s our dad,” Sam said. “He travels a lot on a short notice for work, and sometimes he just leaves town, leaves us these voicemails asking us to go get his stuff. And then he just drops off the face of the earth,” he added, with an eye roll for good measure.

Jess warmed to the lie. “He told us the town, but the payphone was pretty shoddy, so we couldn’t hear the name of the motel. And we’ve been asking for him all over town, but - well. He’s a little paranoid, ex-military, you know? So he checks in under fake names sometimes.”

“Well, he checked in under Aframain here. Paid through the whole week.”

Jess turned to Dean with her eyebrows raised at the familiar fake name, and then realized belatedly that that was a little weird to react like that to her supposed father-in-law’s last name. “Bert! Looks like your dad was here. Used his real name for once.”

This, unfortunately, drew the clerk’s attention to Dean. Who was still covered in mud.

“Dirtbiking incident,” Jess said quickly. “Right into a mud pit. Uh, I don’t suppose he left a key with you for us?”

“No,” the clerk said. “He didn’t. And I can’t give it to you.”

“That’s fine,” Jess said. “He’ll just have to wait to get his crap. Thanks for your help, anyway.”

“What room was it?” Dean asked.

The clerk squinted. “Why would you need to know that?”

“Thank you for your help,” Jess told the clerk. “Mr. Aframain will be back to clear out the room before the week is up, don’t worry!” She said, as she dragged Dean away.

“I saw the guest book entry with the room number on it,” Sam said quietly. “We’ve got where he was staying, at least.

"Not bad," Dean told her.

Jess fought the urge to roll her eyes, because really? Not bad? She had totally nailed it with the idea about asking the motel clerk.

Of course, the entire hotel room was covered in newspaper clippings and printouts, as well as weird occult symbols and… "Are those sea shells?"

"And salt," Dean confirmed. "Cat's-eye shells are for protection, and salt keeps out ghosts. Dad must've been worried; he was trying to keep something from coming in."

She traced the line of clippings—it looked like a monster movie version of the conspiracy wall from a crime thriller, which probably wasn't a bad description of what she understood about John Winchester: part man obsessed with finding his wife's killer, part monster-hunting badass—and then glanced around the rest of the room, looking for something that might indicate a reason to leave a cryptic voicemail and then leave town.

Instead of some illuminating clue, she found a picture of John and what had to be Sam and Dean as children, faded with time, or possibly just from crossing the country with him. It was stuck under the frame of the mirror, holding it there. She'd used the same trick to keep little photo booth strips and pictures of her friends, as a teenager. John looked exactly the same in that picture as he did in the one on their dresser, one of the few actually personal things Sam owned.

Sam stepped up behind her to see what she was looking at, and she looked up at him. His expression was too sad, too honestly surprised to see evidence that his father was thinking of him.

She slipped her hand into his. "Any sign of where he went, Dean?" She asked.

"Nah. He hasn't been here in days. Half-rotted burger, dust."

"So what now?" Jess asked.

Dean raised both eyebrows, and a flake of dried dirt came free with the movement, drifting downwards. "I'm gonna get cleaned up. You two crazy kids figure out where the body is, we dig her up, we burn her."

Jess looked back to Sam, pretending not to see him tuck the picture into his inner jacket pocket. "So. This is how you grew up?”

“The glamor of the modern nomad,” Sam said drily.

She squeezed his hand. “Let’s throw out the trash, it reeks in here. And we can get food, too. Saw a place down the road.”

“Dean’s gonna freak if we take the Impala,” said Sam.

And picked up the keys.

Jess laughed. “Dean!” She called through the bathroom door. “We’re getting food - call us when you get out, let us know what you want.”

“Bring me pie,” Dean yelled.

Sam sighed. “Yeah, he hasn’t changed.”

“Pie, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

* * *

“Dude. Five-oh. Stay gone.”

“What about you?”

“Uh, they kinda spotted me. Go find Dad.”

* * *

“Yes, yes, Whiteford Road. _Please_ hurry!”

Jess turned and high-fived Sam when she hung up the call, her fake tears gone in an instant. "I can't believe you just lied to the cops," he said, laughing.

"Baby, I can't believe you thought that was the first time," Jess replied.

"God, I love you," said Sam.

She stood up on tiptoes to steal a kiss, and then snagged the keys to the Impala. "Now let's get outta here before they check and see what payphone I made the call from. You're sure Dean'll be able to get out of there?"

"Oh, he will."

* * *

Jess met Dean outside the police department.

He side-eyed her. "Where's Sam?"

"He went to talk to the husband. Apparently I'm on pickup duty."

"Pickup?"

She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the crappy little sedan parked illegally in the alley behind the department. "I told Rachel we're ghost hunters and she lent me her dad's old Beamer and we are going to meet Sam at wherever the bones are buried. Let's go."

"You can't just tell people - "

"She already knew it was a ghost, Dean. Get over your hangups and get in."

"I could've just hotwired a car," he grumbled, as he climbed into the car.

"Minimal felonies, please," Jess sighed, "I do intend to finish med school at some point."

"Med school, huh?"

"Yeah. Well - I mean, I'm not some deadbeat relying on Sam. But I'm not in school right now. I got my LPN certification so I could pick up a shift at the hospital to pay for the rest of school, and it worked while I got my Bachelor's, but. Guess I'm not cut out to work graveyard shift and go to grad school. But it's fine, I'm going to work, save money, and then go to school full time when I've saved up enough."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Well, damn. Little Sammy's dating a hot nurse. How Dr. Sexy of him."

"You watch Dr. Sexy?"

"What? No."

Jess grinned, but let it go. "How'd you break out of a police department, anyway?"

"Eh, they left me alone with a paperclip. Only cuffed one wrist, too. Amateurs."

When she stared at him, he shrugged. "Hey, med school, you have your skills, and I've got mine." He hit a speed dial on his phone, and moments later Sam picked up. "Sam, your girlfriend and I are on our way, just tell me where we're headed. So? We dealing with a Weeping Woman?"

"Put it on speaker," Jess told him.

" - all but confirmed that he was unfaithful," Sam's voice crackled through the speakers on Dean's cell phone. "He says the bones are buried in a plot behind the old house, and he says he told Dad too, so what I don't undersrand is why he didn't burn them already?"

"He left town."

"He what? With a job unfinished? How do you figure?"

"He left his journal."

"He never leaves without his journal."

"Well, this time he did. He gave me coordinates, too, with his old Marines trick."

"He leaves town without cleaning up his motel room, leaves behind some prized journal, and with coordinates written in it?" Jess asked. "Well, at least we know he wasn’t kidnapped by a monster, right?”

“What’s it say?” Sam asked.

“Same old ex-Marine crap, letting us know where he’s headed.”

“Coordinates?”

Jess frowned. “He left you _coordinates_? Nothing else?”

“What could be so important that Dad would skip out in the middle of a job? Dean, what the hell is going on?” And then Sam swore, low and earnest, and there was a clatter. Like a phone falling.

Jess tore her eyes away from the road again to look at the phone in horror even as she hit the gas, edging them up above the speed limit she was observing a little more carefully than usual, considering Dean had just escaped custody and a ticket would turn into hard time.

“Take me home,” a garbled voice said.

There was a dial tone where the call dropped, and it was Dean’s turn to swear. “Step on it!” He snapped.

“Way ahead of you,” Jess said grimly.

* * *

“You’re scared to go home,” Sam said, and he twisted around to look at her. _So why did you drive me here?_ But she was already in the passanger seat, shoving him back, sending the uncomfortable trickling ice water sensation down his spine, and the gears to recline the seat clicked almost reproachfully as she forced it back when she climbed into his lap.

“Hold me,” she said, “I’m so cold.”

Great. Just what he’d missed. Being sexually harrassed by ghosts.

“You can’t kill me. I’m not unfaithful. I never have been.”

 _Threesomes do not count as unfaithful -_ he thought, but that was probably not a useful thought, in case she took that as an excuse to kill him.

"You will be," Constance's ghost said, and even as he tried to twist away she sealed her mouth against his, and he tried to focus on the fact that that wasn't cheating, it wasn't consensual, it was -

"Get the hell away from my boyfriend, you filicidal bitch!" Jess yelled.

The broken glass of the window flew right through the ghost, but the shotgun pellets full of salt didn't. Constance screamed and flickered away.

Jess rushed up to the window, her eyes wide, and Dean was there to pull her away when Constance reappeared, her fingers burning into Sam's chest, but she wasn't as strong now, and he grabbed the keys in tbe ignition and turned -

"Sam, what are you doing!" Dean shouted.

"Time - to go - home," he panted, because it really hurt--

and then accelerated right through the rotted porch and into the house.

Jess and Dean pulled him free of the Impala, Jess’s hands cupping his face, kissing him briefly, urgently, and then she patted him down. “You’re okay? You’re okay. You’re okay. Oh, god, Sam—”

“I’m okay,” he said. He pulled her close and tucked her under his chin as Constance approached the stairs, looking up at her children.

“Oh, god…” Jessica whispered. “Those poor kids.”

“You’ve come home to us, mommy.”

And then they flickered into view on either side of Constance and reached for her - Constance _screamed_ and there was a surge of energy and then they exploded into a cascade of water.

Sam took a hesitant step forward.

Jess eyed the rotted out wood above their heads. “That must be where the tub was,” she said.

“This is why she couldn’t go home. She couldn’t face them.”

“You found her weakness. Good work, Sammy.”

Sam smiled.

And then Dean said, “Tell you what, though - if you screwed up my car, I’ll kill you.”

Jess looked up at Sam with a face that clearly said _what the hell is wrong with your brother_ , but in a fondly bemused sort of way, and he started laughing.

* * *

Dean opened the beer and passed it to Jess, and then the second one to Sam, before cracking open his own and lifting it a little. “Here’s to Jess’s first hunt, huh?” He said.

“First, and only,” said Jess, laughing shakily. “I’m not cut out for watching Sam almost die.”

Dean snorted. And yeah, he couldn’t blame her for that. But he couldn’t exactly like her when she was anchoring Sammy to his bullshit apple pie life.

“Okay, but that was _fascinating_ ,” she added. “So you don’t have to burn the bones always! Sam said you did, but sometimes you just give them what they need, or what they’re scared of? Or did her kids’ ghosts drag her into the light? What the hell was that! God, it’s crazy that no one knows about any of this because I want to crack open JSTOR and read every article ever written about it.”

“JSTOR?” Dean asked, looking at Sam for translation.

“It’s an online archive of academic journals,” said Sam. “Jess likes research.”

Dean pulled a map out of his jacket and handed it over, then grabbed a flashlight belatedly. “Wanna see if you can hack out these coordinates, then, nerds?”

Jess unfolded the map and clicked the flashlight on. Sam leaned over it and started tracing the latitude.

“You know, TomToms and GPS navigational systems are gonna render these obselete within the decade,” Sam said.

“Not so obselete that you can leave beer rings on it. C’mon, Sammy, you know better.”

Sam lifted his beer off the map with an epic eye-roll/bitch face combination. “Blackwater Ridge, Colorado,” he said.

“Sounds charming. How far?”

“Six hundred miles.”

“Hey, we shag ass, we could make it by morning.”

Sam and Jess shared a look, and Dean’s heart sank.

“Monday,” he said. “Right. How could I forget.”

“I’m sorry, Dean—”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s fine.” He drained the rest of his beer in one go, ignoring the way Jessica’s eyes followed him. “I’ll take you guys home.”

* * *

Jess hitched her bag over her shoulder and looked between them. “Thanks for the ride,” she said. “It was nice to meet you, Dean. You should come visit, once you know your dad’s okay.”

He looked at Sam, rather than taking her at her word. And, true, she hadn’t checked with Sam, but she knew him, and she’d seen the way they worked with each other. She knew what it was like, to have that kind of sibling bond.

And she knew what it was like to lose it.

Sam nodded to Dean. “Yeah. Yeah, you should.”

She reached up and touched the point on her sternum where the dog tags usually fell. But they weren’t there. _In the bag_ , she realized. She’d taken them off and shoved them in her bag because she didn’t want to risk losing them while fighting a ghost.

“I’m gonna head up,” she said. “I gotta get a shower before San steals the hot water.”

And then she backed away, because they were gonna have a Moment. She could _feel_ it. “Hey,” Dean said.

She half-turned.

“You didn’t do half-bad,” he said.

“Screw you,” she told him, “I kicked ass.”

“Way too good for my brother,” he called after her.

She was still laughing when she unlocked the door to the apartment and stepped in. She flicked the lights on. _Home sweet home_ , she thought, surveying the crappy little apartment.

The whole place smelled a little like rotten eggs - she wondered what their idiot downstairs neighbors had done _now_ \- and she wrinkled her nose as she set the bag down on the bed. She was already thinking about making cookies after she showered. Her hair would have to dry before bed anyway. Maybe she’d just make the dough, and she and Sam could curl up and eat it with a spoon, and she’d have the leftovers baked for when he got home tomorrow…

The bedside lamp flickered.

She paused. Okay. “Occam’s Razor,” she muttered. Not every electrical flicker was a ghost. But she felt around in the bag for the dogtags anyway, because she could use that familiarity right about now.

Her fingers brushed cold metal.

Had she accidentally…?

She opened the bag further so she could actually see what she was doing. The shotgun Dean had handed her from the Impala’s trunk, when Constance was attacking Sam, was lying in the bottom of her bag. Rubberbanded to it was a post-it that said, _JUST IN CASE_ in spiky capital letters.

Protective big brothers. She snorted. Some things were universal.

She could see the glint of the tags under one of her shirts and she lifted the shotgun out to reach for them—

“You know,” said a familiar voice, “you’re really screwing with my timeline here.”

Jess spun around. “Brady?” She said.

Brady smiled. “Hey, Jessie.”

“What are you doing here?”

“See, I was suppoed to have _hours_ ,” said Brady. He took a step forward. “He was supposed to leave you here all alone when he ran off with big brother. But you just had to go with him. And now I don’t get to play.”

The light flickered again, and the smell of eggs got worse, and Brady moved closer.

His eyes flicked ink black.

She didn’t think it through. Just lifted the gun, cocked it back, and pulled the trigger.

Brady stumbled, swearing at her, and she ran past him, right into Sam, who grabbed her shoulders to stop her momentum, and immediately pushed her toward the door. “Go, go, get out,” he said, and he was right on her heels.

“Brady - black eyes - ”

He pulled the door shut behind them just as Brady was storming out of the bedroom, eyes still that flat black.

“Run,” he said.

And yeah. He didn’t have to tell her twice.

They hurried down the stairs, and Sam took the shotgun from her as they went. He opened it and pulled a couple of the salt-filled shells out.

“What are you—” she managed, before he was twisting them open and dumping the salt in a line across the stair behind them.

“Keep moving,” he said.

So she did, down another two flights, and when they reached the bottom of the stairs, Sam calling for Dean, she twisted back against Sam’s grip on her arm to look -

Brady had stopped two floors up, where the line of salt was. He looked down at them over the railings.

Sam pulled her out into the street. “Call Dean—” he started, but broke off.

There was smoke pouring out of the windows on their floor.

“ _No_ ,” said Sam.

“Oh, god,” said Jess. “Sam, Brady’s in there - he’s - ”

“Possessed,” Sam said.

Before she could even ask him what the hell they were supposed to do - possessed or not, that was their _friend_ in there - there was a screech of tires and the slam of a car door and, “Sammy!”

“Dean,” Sam said.

“I saw smoke. I had a bad feeling, and then I saw smoke, and - you’re okay?” He gripped Sam’s shoulder tightly. “What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know, I just heard a gun shot and Jess screaming—”

She’d screamed? She didn’t remember screaming, but in hindsight she felt that was a fairly restrained reaction.

“Our friend Brady, he was in the apartment when I got back. He said I wasn’t supposed to go with you guys, that he’d expected to have more time to - to _play_. And I shot him, and ran. His eyes were black. The light was flickering. He smelled like. Like rotten eggs. Oh god, _Brady_.”

People were beginning to pour out of the apartment building.

Brady wasn’t among them. Jess buried her face in Sam’s chest and didn’t watch.

* * *

Dean nodded in thanks to the fireman, who was already turning away, and stowed the fake ID in his pocket as he headed back to the Impala.

Sam and Jess were sitting there, wrapped in one of the blankets from the back. Jess had her head on Sam’s shoulder. He was staring off into space, but he focused on Dean when he approached.

“Fire started in the bedroom,” said Dean. “Your unit.”

The look on Sam's face made Dean wish he could kill the evil sonuvabitch right now. This whole damn thing made him want to punch something. He hadn't felt this helpless since—

Well. It was exactly twenty-two years, now.

Jess lifted her head. “Did Brady…"

"They didn't find a body. Got this, though," he added. "Said he stumbled across 'em by sheer luck."

Jessica's eyes went wide as he dropped the tags into her hand.

 _MOORE_  
JAMES T.  
343464356  
A NEG  
CATHOLIC

"Thank you," Sam mouthed, as Jess pulled the dirty, ash-covered chain on over her hair and curled her fingers around the tags.

Dean shrugged a little. _You're welcome_.

"So," Jess said. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but fierce, as she clutched at the necklace and whoever it memorialized. "Blackwater Ridge?"

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, when I read over this to check it, I was really concerned by how much Jess seems to be a major character. "Oh no," I thought, "I'm focusing too much on her and not Sam and Dean!" And then I remembered, this entire thing is about giving this show a female main character, and de-fridging people all over the place. So. Here you go. Jess, with a backstory and interests and a pulse.
> 
> There will be more. A lot more. I probably won't rewrite to canon episodes like this all the time, but there'll be changed scenes and codas for probably every single episode of canon, if all goes according to plan.
> 
> Hit me up @wayward-idiots on Tumblr, where I'm salty all the time and really, really want someone to talk to about this 'verse before I go insane. I'll be tracking the #JessLivesAU tag.


End file.
